Doctor's Call
by kaitou-marron
Summary: The same nightmare plagues Hisoka once more. What is Muraki’s purpose in having Hisoka relive his torture? [Warning: yaoi TsuSoka, molestation by Muraki. This ff deals heavily with Muraki's curse on Hisoka and the events leading up to it.]
1. Reliving the Past

Disclaimer: Do I really need one of these

**Disclaimer: **Do I really need one of these? I own none of Yami no Matsuei. : sigh :

**Author's notes: **This is a new fandom for me. : peers cautiously :

WARNING: A good part of this ff is centered on Hisoka's rape/curse. I'm a little unsure about 's tolerance for this type of a story. I don't think I made it terribly graphic, and the event in question is part of YnM's story. If anyone thinks it's too much please let me know, and I'll take the story down/revise it.

**Chapter 1: Reliving the Past**

The night had been stifling hot, beyond muggy to say the least. The air conditioner never quite made it to where Hisoka's parents decided to lock him up. But it was only at night when the child could escape from his prison. Pale and wobbly legged, he tightened the sash on his robe and escaped into the dark of the night. Dim lights lit the way, as the boy found himself wandering off of the expansive Kurosaki estate and down the old fashioned roads.

_If only the townspeople knew,_ he thought, shivering despite the fact that heavy, wet heat clung to his body to his hair. No, the townspeople adored the Kurosaki family, adored his father, Nagare. _They'd think I was a monster too,_ he thought dejectedly. Indeed, what kind of person could read other people's emotions; he was very much aware of how odd his talent was.

Looking up, he saw that foggy clouds parted to reveal the moon, glowing red, like some sick, dripping jewel in the night sky. Perhaps it was foreshadowing about what was to come, for it was a sixteen year old Hisoka's consciousness that resided in his thirteen year old body.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never quite make himself stop walking, could never stop himself before he made the awful discovery. Instead, he was doomed to relive his personal terror in his dreams over and over.

As he walked, low laughing and a wet slashing sound captured his attention. Hands in clawed form, he tried to cover his ears, tried not to hear, but something kept him from ignoring the scene.

The sound of maniacal laughter crawled down his back, sending his body into chills, as he felt his eyes widen with the sound of a knife ripping through flesh. The smell of blood was too strong. The stifling night air spread the thick, metallic, meaty smell in such a way that Hisoka felt enveloped in blood, gore, and death.

The red, red moon seemed to cry blood, as the fluid from the victim seeped into a white coat. At that time thirteen year old Hisoka didn't know who Muraki was, but at age sixteen he was all too familiar with the doctor. Muraki, covered in blood, discarded the crumpled body at his feet - a man dressed in all white, like an angel, but who looked like the devil.

_Run!_ Hisoka's first instinct screamed at him. He didn't need to be told twice, as he whirled around and started a hurried dash back to his house. The stones in the pavement bit into his bare feet, and he cursed himself for not having worn shoes.

Each step hurt more and more, as he was certain his feet were bleeding, so he turned course. _If I get past that tree and to the well, maybe I can find a place to hide._

As he ran, his heart beat accelerated to a point where he thought he could no longer breathe, but he kept on going, desperation urging him forth. Even as he made his mad race, he could hear the clicking of shoes closing in on him.

"Boy," a voice finally said near his ear. Hisoka couldn't help but scream in response. A large hand clamped firmly around his arm.

"Let me go!" he begged. "I won't say anything; I didn't see anything." Shaking his head violently, he felt damp strands of hair cling to his forehead to his neck. In the grip of the older man, Hisoka felt his dreaded power take over as he was involuntarily saturated with Muraki's thoughts, his dark intents. He had never been faced with anyone as twisted, devious, and perverse. Eyes widening with terror, he tried to pull away, mouth frozen in a silent scream, as if his voice had been scared away.

Muraki only chuckled as he pushed the boy to the ground. Hisoka had always been tiny, frail, weak, and he couldn't even put up a resistance.

"Please no," he managed to whimper writhing around on the ground. Grass, dirt, and branches tangled themselves into his hair, poked through the thin cloth of his robe.

Muraki's smile only widened. "You're a very beautiful boy indeed," he whispered, hand on Hisoka's neck. "Your eyes burn a bright green that I have never seen before." He lowered his body down on the young boy's, forcing his lips on the boy's earlobe.

"Nooooo," Hisoka protested, trying to push the man off of him, shivering when he felt a warm tongue inside of his ear. It was only a matter of moments before he began choking; it was then he realized that as he moved Muraki had put increasingly more pressure on his throat.

"Stop!" he tried again, tears of horror springing to his eyes.

"Why would I want to do something like that?" Muraki asked, moving so he could lap the tears off of the boy's face.

Sobs wracked Hisoka's body, as he continued to try to struggle. It was then that Muraki untied the sash on the robe, and it was at that point when Hisoka started screaming as loudly as his voice would allow him. "NOOOOO! STOPPPP!"

_Help me, somebody,_ he thought. He screamed in terror when he felt Muraki's hands touch his body.

"Show me your death," the other man whispered. "Your beautiful, gruesome death." He bent his head down and put his lips on the boy's pale white throat.

The feeling of cool, dry hands on his flesh brought scream after scream of protest. "STTOOOOOOP! PLEAASEE!!"

It was the aftermath of where those hands touched that left him burning. He wanted to throw up, but he couldn't stop screaming and crying. In horror, he watched as red marks appeared on his body, feeling disgusted by how the man was running his hands in a pattern across his chest, down to his stomach. It burned; his whole body burned as if he were being branded.

Muraki dragged his hands down the pale body in front of him, his mouth following suit, leaving a trail bite marks down the shoulders and chest. His hands teasingly touched the boy's abdomen, and he laughed when the boy flinched. A cruel smile spread on his lips when he reached even lower, grabbing at the flesh.

It was at this point when the screams stopped being intelligible words and transformed into high-pitched, hideous shrieking that pierced the once quiet night.

"Hmph," Muraki commented through the cry. "You might actually enjoy this part." With that, he lowered his head to where his hands were, tongue running across sensitive skin before taking the boy into his mouth.

At that moment, Hisoka couldn't beg for help anymore, all he could do was feel Muraki's hands and mouth on his body, knowing very well that the worst was yet to come. His only response was the terrified screams that ripped from his throat, one after another…

--

"TSUZUKI!!" Hisoka cried out, sitting up straight in his bed. His heart was pounding hard, voice caught in his throat. There it was again, that dream. Dreaming about the event once in a while wasn't really that strange, but everyday for the past two weeks was indeed odd for him. And, after every night he would get farther into the dream before awakening, the details sharpening as well. Like always, after the dream, Hisoka would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, red curse appearing on his fine, ivory flesh.

He cursed softly to himself. _What is happening to me? Why is Muraki plaguing me once more? What does he want from me?_

**Author's notes: **This was just closer look in poor Hisoka's past; I'm just experimenting a little to see how this ff is received (because I'm really unsure about it). Some semblance to a plot will happen if I continue, so please review to let me know if there is an interest or not. It's a different type of story than I'd normally write. I'm just trying to expand my horizons (hopefully successfully).


	2. Before there is Conflict

**Disclaimer: **Standard stuff. I own nothing.

**Author's notes:** I'm here! I hope somebody's reading, lol. This is my first attempt at m/m lemon, so you have been warned… (warned about the lemon and warned about the fact that it may not be the best written one out there. Like I've said, I'm trying to expand my writing horizons with this ff).

**Chapter 2: Before there is Conflict …**

Hisoka sat in his bed alone, arms wrapped around his own bone-thin frame. Shaking at the memory, he tried to ignore the red curse that decorated his body, the constant reminder that Muraki would always be part of him, even after his death. It was times like this he really wished Tsuzuki were in bed with him. Since the Kyoto case, their relationship had developed to a point that the two of them sharing a bed was not really surprising to imagine.

When that damned dream had taken over his subconscious for the fifth day in a row, Hisoka knew that something was terribly wrong. By some sort of miracle, he had not cried out that night, had not awaken Tsuzuki who was still sleeping peacefully by his side. Alone, that night, he had rolled closer into Tsuzuki's embrace and cried against the pillow, a cold wash of fear dominating every fiber of his being. In the morning, he pretended that nothing had happened and requested that Tsuzuki let him catch up on his sleep for a while. After pouting, Tsuzuki conceded, patting Hisoka on the head, letting his long fingers entwine in the sandy-brown locks of hair. With a gentle kiss and a wink, he said he understood that Hisoka needed his beauty sleep. Nine days had since passed, and every night his recollections became more vivid, and every night he awoke feeling more violated than the night before.

Why didn't he tell Tsuzuki about his condition? Hisoka shook his head knowing very much that it wouldn't accomplish anything. Tsuzuki would only worry and fuss over him more than he already did, and for what? Tsuzuki already knew about the curse and its horrifying origin. Even so, Hisoka never told his partner that he could still feel Muraki in him when the curse surfaced, never admitted, not even to himself, that he wasn't quite sure how powerful Muraki's hold on him was. There was nothing that either of them could do about it. Only Muraki could do something, although Hisoka was sure that the silver-haired doctor would do nothing of the sort.

_I'm much more fun to him as his little puppet,_ he thought with disgust. Using breathing exercises, he calmed himself down enough to lie down and feign slumber. In a few minutes, he knew that Tsuzuki would be in to check on him, like he always did, only minutes after Hisoka's awakening. By now, Hisoka knew to pull up the blankets to his chin just in case the remnants of his curse hadn't faded by then. Today, he had the feeling that they would disappear before Tsuzuki's entrance.

-----------------------------

Tsuzuki sat up in his bed. _Hisoka's calling me!_ The thought awakened him at once. But that was silly. As he sat in his bed, alone, he needed to convince himself of the fact over and over. Still, the nagging feeling bothered him just as it had bothered him every night since his ejection from the green-eyed boy's bed. Compelled by concern, he got out of his bed, pulling a robe over his normal bed attire, boxers, and tiptoed to where he knew Hisoka was sleeping. Like every night, the other boy looked so peaceful. Golden locks of hair fell beautifully across white skin of his face. High cheekbones and delicate features made him look angelic in his slumber.

Unconvinced of his partner's well-being, Tsuzuki, for the first time, approached the other boy's bed, sitting down next to him. Underneath him, the mattress groaned at the added weight, but Tsuzuki gave that no extra thought as gentle fingers brushed hair out of his partner's face. The boy stirred at the touch but didn't open his eyes. Still suspicious of Hisoka's increasingly withdrawn actions, Tsuzuki grabbed the blankets that covered him.

_Are you still having that nightmare?_ he thought pulling down, convinced he'd see those horrible red markings that marred normally perfectly white flesh. His bold actions got a response.

"Tsuzuki?" Hisoka asked, eyes opening. Brilliant green orbs peered curiously into deep violet ones. Slowly, a flush worked its way into his cheeks. "What are you doing here?" Even though he sounded cross, he was actually feeling quite the opposite. He loved it when the other man touched him tenderly. As an empath, he could synchronize with emotions, both good and bad. Feeling another person's emotion of love always warmed his soul, but knowing that it was directed at him was the ultimate elixir for him, one that he had spent the first sixteen years of his life without.

"I was worried," the other man pouted shaking deep brown locks of hair from his eyes. "I thought I heard you call me."

Hisoka opened his mouth but didn't know if he could honestly deny the claim. He knew that he talked in his sleep constantly, especially when a particular reoccurring nightmare was in question. "I'm sorry," he said. "But as you can see, I'm fine." A brave smile on his face, he presented his arms to the other man, showing off their sleek, white perfection.

"Hmm," Tsuzuki said, taking the offering into his arms. Pretending to inspect them at first, he suddenly pushed them away, pinning them and Hisoka to the bed underneath him.

"What are you doing?" Hisoka asked alarmed as Tsuzuki's fingers began undoing the buttons on his pajama top.

"I have to make sure that you're all curse free," he said playfully baring Hisoka's chest.

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka began warningly.

"I haven't been in your bed for nine days," Tsuzuki pouted. "Nine whole days!"

"Whatever. Do what you'd like."

"Hmph, when you say it like that, I don't want to do it anymore."

"What! Since when do you **not** want to do it," Hisoka huffed.

"You want me to," Tsuzuki prodded teasingly.

Hisoka didn't say anything, but turned his head away, so he wasn't facing Tsuzuki. He felt the telltale signs of blushing, that warmth that rushed to his cheeks.

"Ask for it," Tsuzuki suggested.

Bristling, Hisoka replied, "There's no way I'm going to ask for it." The flush on his cheeks darkened with embarrassment.

"You're so cute when you're shy. Did you know that?" Fingers trailed down the pale chest in front of him, down past the navel, where hands stopped and flattened themselves on the thin stomach.

"Don't tease me like this, Tsuzuki."

"I'll count that as 'asking for it,'" Tsuzuki said winking at his partner. Licking his lips, he lowered his head down to Hisoka's, pressing his mouth on the younger boy's, tongue slipping into a mouth that welcomed him. An adventurous hand worked its way beneath the elastic of pajama pants. Tsuzuki ran a palm across the thin boxers that separated him and the other boy's growing desire.

Panting heavily, Hisoka broke away from the kiss to utter, "Tsuzu-mmm." His body flinched with the intensity of the touch. Before he realized it, Tsuzuki's hands worked to undress him, hands pulling down at the restrictive clothing. Instinctively, his hips wiggled to slide out of his clothing.

"Uwa!" Tsuzuki exclaimed. "I always love seeing you naked."

"Don't say embarrassing things like that!" Hisoka protested, feeling a gasp rise up in his throat as he felt the light creeping of fingers on the inside of his thighs. Hands touched the sensitive skin, and Hisoka couldn't help but spreading his legs further apart and lifting his pelvis slightly as an indication of his expectations.

At that moment, Hisoka was able to feel the full intensity of Tsuzuki's lust for him, and it was the ultimate aphrodisiac. He felt the desire and felt desired as well. But, shy as always, Hisoka waited for his partner to make his move.

"Hmmm," Tsuzuki said, kissing down Hisoka's chest, down his stomach, even lower. "Maybe I feel like teasing you just a little bit today."

"Tsuzuki!" he cried outraged.

"Do you want to do it tonight?" he asked, knowing very well he was torturing his young lover. But this was the only time that he knew that he could be in control of anything.

"I …" was all Hisoka could manage as his mouth opened in a silent scream when Tsuzuki gripped his cock in his hand, fingers massaging the tip, feeling the slick wetness of pre-come being emitted from it.

Without warning, Tsuzuki took all of Hisoka into his mouth, rolling his tongue against the hard, hot flesh, relishing the taste and feel of the other boy. With one of his hands, he reached for the nightstand, pulling the drawer opened, fingers closing around a familiar tube. A practiced hand worked the bottle opened, managing to squeeze a generous amount onto his fingers. Carefully, he inserted one into the boy, feeling Hisoka's body respond, muscles tightening momentarily before relaxing.

"Hnnnnnn!" Hisoak cried, the uncontrollable sounds rising his throat. Tsuzuki was much better than he was; that much he was sure of. "Oh God!" His body writhed, head tossing back and forth, in pleasure as Tsuzuki worked him in his mouth, with his fingers. Another finger slipped inside of him, and he first tensed at the pain he knew would come. But afterwards, Tsuzuki was nothing but careful as he gently worked fingers in and out in a circular motion.

"We have to get you ready," Tsuzuki said, releasing Hisoka's member from his mouth, putting his full attention on widening the opening to Hisoka's body. "You don't want it to hurt."

But Hisoka was already beyond words legs spread, back arched, reacting only to Tsuzuki's expert touch. He could feel the fingers working inside him trying to find the spot that made him moan the most.

"There," he managed to utter between heavy breaths when the other man hit the spot that sent an electric pulse through him. "Ahhahhhhh mmmm. Tsu-tsuzuki."

Tsuzuki found that he couldn't wait any longer; he had long been hard and ready. Any more of Hisoka's noises, any more of merely touching the other boy's body, and he thought that he might burst on the spot. So he withdrew very aware of the fact that Hisoka protested this, trying to grab at him. He watched the boy with the stunningly brilliant green eyes while he disrobed.

"Hurry, Tsuzuki," Hisoka begged. He had turned to his front side and waited on hands and knees in anticipation of what was to come next.

_Younger men are always so impatient,_ Tsuzuki thought, a smile spreading across his lips as Hisoka offered himself to him. He took a leisurely time to coat himself with lubricant, eyes focused on the body in front of him. Hisoka's bowed spine was a graceful arc that he wanted to touch. He wanted to touch the boy all over, to feel silky skin beneath his fingertips, to bring a fine sweat to that slim body.

No longer being able to deny himself, he said, "Get ready," while settling himself in a familiar position. Slowly, he worked himself inside as not to hurt the smaller boy.

Grunting, Hisoka endured the brief pain, knowing that his sacrifice would be worth it. He even tried helping, backing ever so slightly into Tsuzuki, helping the other man enter him more quickly.

"You're very eager tonight," Tsuzuki commented. He found it amusing how Hisoka always seemed to end up wanting it just as badly or even more badly than he did but was always so reluctant to start. Once he was sheathed inside of the boy, he began moving his hips back and forth, a hand grabbing roughly at Hisoka's arousal. Hand closed around the skin and tugged and pulled as he worked himself in and out of the other boy.

"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka gasped feeling his body tremble with the touches. Clawed hands gripped the sheets underneath him.

A low growl escaped from Tsuzuki as he bent over his partner, thrusting into him, hard. Again and again, working in and out, hearing the other boy moan and cry his name as he came closer and closer to climax.

_Almost, _Tsuzuki thought, working both himself and the boy. Warm sparks encompassed his entire body, filling it up with heat that radiated from his groin outward. Faster and faster, he thrust inside, their bodies becoming a sort of beautiful melding, wonderfully joined in both body and soul. As he moved, Hisoka tightened his muscles around Tsuzuki, gripping tighter to push his partner over the edge. A low moan ripped from deep in Tsuzuki's throat as he felt the sweet release hit his body. Determined to bring Hisoka to climax as well, he stroked hard and fast hearing the boy let out a throaty cry from beneath him. Underneath the movement of his hand, he felt the wetness leak through his fingers, felt the boy's body jerk in spasms underneath his, heard one final cry of his name with deep gasping breaths.

Hisoka collapsed to the bed first with Tsuzuki to follow.

"That was fun," Tsuzuki whispered into Hisoka's ear, body spooning the slighter boy's.

"For you," Hisoka huffed. Now that they were done, he had returned to his normal self, closed and reserved.

Tsuzuki didn't care, as he wrapped his arms around the other boy and prepared to sleep, happy to be once again in the other boy's bed.

Although worn from the activity and under slept from the last two weeks, Hisoka fretted. A deep knot of worry enveloped his entire being, because as he and Tsuzuki were making love, he got the distinct feeling that the two of them were not alone. A sick, familiar consciousness seemed to dwell within him. Without glancing down at his body, Hisoka knew that the redness of his cursed seal was rising for a second time that night. Luckily Tsuzuki, lying next to him, was already breathing slowly and regularly, a sure sign that slumber had already claimed him.

Terrified, Hisoka rocked back and forth within Tsuzuki's embrace hoping sleep would not come to take him to his worst nightmare.

**Author's notes: **What did you think? Reviews are welcome and appreciated. If I'm doing something wrong, please let me know.

Umm … there's a plot … seriously … somewhere. It'll come soon (once I figure out how everything's going to work out). : waves : I am late for a gathering, so I have to dash. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.


	3. Nightmares and Reality

**Disclaimer: **The series is not mine. If it was, then I would finish the Gensoukai arc. Seriously. : sigh :

**Author's notes:** Thanks for the reviews. I appreciate them, especially when writing such a … _delicate_ subject. It's hard for me to keep it up. With that being said, happy holidays to those who like a tortured Hisoka. (Yes, this is my blanket holiday chapter, because I'm not at school and don't know when the next time I'll be able to use non-dialup internet is.) I find this chapter kind of disturbing. It's kind of bad to find oneself disturbing … right?

**Chapter 3: Nightmares and Reality**

_Where am I,_ Hisoka thought, taking in the surroundings. It wasn't somewhere he recognized, and for that he was thankful. Instead of being at his home, he was in some sort of a sterile building, gray and dull. A shiver running through his body, he pulled the robe that he was wearing tighter around him. He took a step, and then another, not knowing what was drawing him.

"You're a stubborn boy," he heard a voice say.

Hisoka's blood ran cold, body frozen in place, as eyes took in the image of a familiar man in white. "Muraki," he spat the name as a curse.

"I was merely going to have a chat with you today, but you avoided sleep for as long as possible, so I think I'm going to have to … teach you what it means to be my puppet." He took a step closer. Click, the footstep echoed in the room.

"Don't come any closer!" Hisoka gasped trembling, brow breaking out in a sweat. Try as he might, he found that his body refused to obey him. Why couldn't he move?

"Oh?" Muraki asked tilting his head. "Then, I'll have you come to me."

Horrified, Hisoka felt his body respond as if some invisible hand were beckoning him forth. As he felt that wretched curse surface on his skin, he became aware of its physical effects, the burning, as if it were trying to devour his skin in its greedy flames. "NO!" he cried trying to stop it. "Please, NO!" But, surely and slowly, his left foot moved forward, followed by his right foot.

"That's right, my puppet, my beautiful little doll." The voice was sinister and held deeper intentions.

Humiliated, Hisoka found his legs folding underneath him, bringing him to a kneeling position in front of Muraki. "What do you want with me?" he asked.

"You're the bait for Tsuzuki. I thought that much would have been obvious."

"Leave him out of it!" Hisoka cried, head whipping up, green eyes glowering with anger.

"I'm jealous." Muraki admitted eyes narrowed. "You had him tonight. You could possess him if you so chose. But through you, I can possess him as well. Don't tell me you didn't feel me inside your head, in your flesh, as Tsuzuki was making love to you."

"Why?" _Why do you torture me so?_

Muraki ignored him. "Did Tsuzuki ever tell you why I killed you the way I did?" he asked bending down on his knees, putting his face close to Hisoka's. A languid hand ran itself down the young boy's white cheek, down his shoulders, holding him in place as he whispered the words against his lips.

Right when Muraki made physical contact with Hisoka, he was numbed by the other man's twisted thoughts. Sadistic intentions of brutal rape filled his mind, and Hisoka was unable to stop painful memories from rushing to him. Humiliation. Helplessness. Muraki wanted to inflict the worst kind of torment, planned on leaving him bleeding, used, and broken.

Swallowing hard, Hisoka could only shiver in his place, invisible strings from the puppet master holding him still. "Don't touch me." Shaking his head, golden-brown locks whipped around his face. Green eyes looked up with as much fear as anger.

"Of course you know," Muraki continued gamely, as if Hisoka hadn't spoken at all. "You have your gift. I told you that night that you were a very beautiful boy. Indeed you are, much too beautiful to have died brutally. I enjoyed watching you struggle to live, watching your body cool, watching your breathing slow. To me, you were a fascination, much like a pet."

Hisoka shuddered as Muraki reached inside the robe that he was wearing. Bile rose in his throat as he couldn't help but screaming in response to the touch, in response to what he saw in Muraki's head, in response to what he knew was coming next.

"You screamed that night," Muraki reminisced in a manner as if recalling a tender moment, while hands unknotted the sash tied around Hisoka's waist. "You know," Muraki commented. "If you don't want something like this to happen, you really should stop wearing clothing that's so easily removable."

Pulse rate increased as Hisoka gasped in breath after breath, each one faster and louder than the previous one. "Don't," he managed through his irregular, panting breaths. _I hate myself._

Cool hands pushed him over and Hisoka's body tumbled, hitting the cold, sterile floor with a hard thump. The unaccustomed feeling of cold tile pressed against his bared flesh caused him to flinch at the utter wrongness of it.

"I know, the floor is cold … but you won't be cold for much longer." Muraki laughed, that laugh that Hisoka heard only in his worst nightmares, while reliving his own personal hell over and over again. The sound crawled against his skin, and gooseflesh prickled at the discomfort.

Eyes wide like a terrified horse's with white showing all around, Hisoka watched as Muraki unbuttoned the fly to his pants pulling down the zipper. "Shall we relive that sensuous night we shared together?" he whispered suggestively, pushing the tip of his freed arousal against Hisoka's groin, grinding in order to get the physical response he desired. His mouth, now against Hisoka's throat, sucked the flesh, teeth nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. He moved his lips carefully avoiding Hisoka's, so he could hear the boy scream, unhampered.

"I was just a kid!" Hisoka cried body trying to struggle as much as it was allowed. His personal hell was nothing any little boy should have gone through.

"And I'm glad," Muraki said pointedly, "I let you live for a few years before killing you. Not only was your death beautifully tragic, but it also allowed you to mature. I must say I rather like the way your body has grown. Definitely more adult without losing any of your delicate beauty, a delicate beauty that is better when it is on the verge of being crushed."

"Nonononononono!" The word escaped his lips repeating over and over again like a crazy person's chant.

Bent over him, all Hisoka could hear were pleased laughs that came from Muraki. Those cold, dry hands tortured him with gentle touches. The silver hair that tickled his chest felt like the legs of a hundred ants coming to claim portions of his body. He tried desperately to push at Muraki, his arms seeming to have no affect on the doctor. For some reason, they had no strength. He tried to wriggle away, hands managing to catch leverage against the floor. Desperately, his arms worked to drag his thin, frail figure away in a sort of backwards crawl. Tile caught his bare back in friction and rubbed the skin from his back leaving it raw, but that was okay, anything was better than staying still.

"Oh?" Muraki uttered, looking a bit surprised at the struggle. "You can still move?" A sinister smile appeared on his face as he narrowed his eyes, and Hisoka felt the puppet strings tighten around him, ensnaring him even deeper into a web of terror.

"This is just a dream," Hisoka whispered, desperately trying to convince himself. "Just a dream." From his frozen position on the floor, he stared at the approaching Muraki with wide eyes that held more fear than hatred in them. Pale lips trembled as he resigned himself to the fact that history was about to repeat itself.

"Is it?" Muraki asked drawing nearer to him, white trench coat swishing behind him. "Does the fact that it's a dream make this feel any less real?" With that, he had gotten control of Hisoka once more, his body on top of the other boy's. Hands lifted Hisoka's lower half up, roughly jerking his legs apart, as he entered the boy dry, hard, and fast without any preparation. The agonized scream that echoed through the building was his reward.

The pain was indescribable, an unwelcome object being forced into a terribly intimate place. Although he had been through it before, nothing could have prepared him. How, exactly, did one prepare himself for rape?

With the thin tissue brutally torn, hot, sticky blood - his blood - seeped out from him underneath him, and he cried out a name to beg for help. "TSUZUKI!"

"Yes," Muraki said laughing while he thrust deeper into him. "Call him. Bring him to me."

At that moment, Hisoka felt his body grow impossibly weak, felt his strength leak from him, as helpless tears coursed down his face. Muraki had him in his hand, practiced hands working gently over the tip of his erection, reminding him that even as he protested, his body still reacted to the unwanted touch. History repeated itself as he found that all he could do was scream as the doctor worked. Even in his terror, he could hear Muraki's words to him.

"You know what I realized … about last time … and this time … is that you, too, are special. The more and more deeply I progress in tormenting you, thrusting into you, the more and more I want to bathe in the hotness of your blood –to some how gain your scent, your perfect beauty, your very essence. You were much too pretty to die alone, and now here you are returned to me as a Shinigami. It's fate...fate that I be inside you like I am now … or like I was earlier tonight, always in your mind, forever lingering on your skin..."

Hisoka responded with a strangled sound of pain, bit into his lip to keep himself from crying out loudly, as he knew would excite the doctor's perverse tastes. Muraki's movements in and out sped up, moving without rhythm. Growls and grunts escaped his throat as he moved closer to his climax and closer to Hisoka's peak humiliation. Blissfully, before the doctor had a chance to finish his degrading act, the scene faded …

-----------------------------

"Hisoka! Hisoka!" Tsuzuki shook his partner, hard, watching the pale head snap back and forth on a thin, swan-like neck. But he refused to awaken and continued to scream to wake, well, to wake the dead. Tsuzuki considered himself and realized that the dead were not exactly hard to wake, except for the boy in his arms. Red curse glowing against pale skin told him that Muraki was involved with the boy's terrified shrieks.

"Hisoka!" _What can I do for him?_ Fingers dug into the delicate white shoulders, pressure against them hard, so hard that he thought he'd crush the other boy within his hands. But the pain seemed to bring his partner to.

Gasping and panting like an animal running for his life, Hisoka awoke to find himself in Tsuzuki's arms. "Oh, God," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut. Tears rolled down his cheeks one after another. Body going limp, he lied in Tsuzuki's waiting arms, waiting for the reassuring arms to close around him offering much needed warmth.

"Was it **that** dream again?"

"No … it was worse," Hisoka whispered hoarsely before he could stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth or the tears from streaming down his face. "So much worse …"

**Author's notes:** Hope y'all enjoyed. Thanks for being so patient with the updates. Review if the urge hits you. : hits readers with stick labeled "urge" : Ok, that was lame. I'm sorry.

A special thanks goes out to **FlyinBison**. Without her I wouldn't be able to make Muraki as twisted as he needs to be. Honestly, I find it somewhat reassuring that I have trouble writing Muraki. Having an inner Muraki would frankly terrify me.


	4. Deal Makers Part I

**Disclaimer: **Not my characters. The ff comes from me, but that doesn't do me much good.

**Author's notes: **Like I promised in my LJ (see my profile for a link), an update for Valentine's day. Sorry for the long wait; I hope everyone enjoys the latest installment.

**Chapter 4: Deal Makers – Part 1**

"What did you dream about?" Tsuzuki demanded. "It was Muraki. What happened?"

"Nothing," Hisoka whispered. He couldn't bring himself to recount the details; it was too awful.

"You screamed for five whole minutes before I could wake you. What was Muraki doing to you?"

Against him, Hisoka's slight body just trembled in his arms, head shaking over and over again. Tsuzuki used his hands to still Hisoka's head, support his body, running reassuring warmth over him.

"What frightened you so much?"

"I'm his … puppet," he managed to say through chattering teeth.

Tsuzuki turned eyes to the boy cradled in his arms. "You're not going to turn into him," he tried to reassure, addressing a notion that had always plagued Hisoka.

"But even when he's in my mind with me or on my skin … it's not enough."

"Wait a minute!" Tsuzuki interjected sharply. "You mean that he can talk to you in your mind, can force you to do things …?" The question lingered.

Hisoka swallowed hard and clamped his lips together.

"What did he force you to do, Hisoka?" he asked again more force behind his question. The pale boy lay limply in Tsuzuki's arms refusing to reply.

"I wish I had your power sometimes," Tsuzuki told him softly.

Startled, green eyes focused on him. "Why?"  
"Because it's so hard to get things from you. Because you've closed off a part of yourself."

"You're the same way," Hisoka pointed out dryly.

"But … Muraki isn't plaguing my dreams," he protested. Hesitating, worry showed in amethyst colored eyes.

Somehow with the very fragile Hisoka in his arms, giving off the aura of spun glass, he couldn't ask the question he needed either denied or verified. _Has he been raping you in your dreams? Not just your dreams of the past, but even now?_ Knowing Hisoka's empathetic powers, he was sure the other boy heard all of his questions. When the green eyed boy flinched, he knew he had hit the target.

"Oh, Hisoka," he sighed, pulling, hugging it bruisingly close to him. "I swear I won't let him touch you; I'm the only who's allowed to touch you like that. Ne? Hisoka?"

Hisoka just drew his body closer to himself, knees tucked beneath his chin as if trying to protect his body by making it disappear.

"Is he doing it to get to me? I'll stop him."

"You can't!" Hisoka cried, shaking his head violently. "That's exactly what he wants. And for what? He will never leave me; you know it."

"But if it stops your torment, even lessens it, I'll go."

"Why, Tsuzuki?"

"I have to protect what's precious to me."

"You can't go to him; I won't let you."

Tsuzuki forced that good natured smile on his face. "I'll be okay."

"It's Muraki; you don't believe that."

"Hey," Tsuzuki pointed out. "Let me remind you that my track record against him is much better than yours."

Hisoka snorted. "Better?" he asked dryly. "How? Last time we saw him, you tried to kill him while committing suicide."

"That again," Tsuzuki said with a sigh. "How many times do you have to bring it up? But seriously, I do better in dealing with Muraki. In your first meeting with him, you successfully got yourself raped, cursed, and eventually killed. The next time, you ended up kidnapped. The time after that, you were forced to shoot Princess Tsubaki because of him." He began ticking the events off on his fingers.

Growling with displeasure, Hisoka said, "Even if I asked you not to seek him, you would anyways."

"Of course."

"Then I'll be there to try to stop you."

"Fair enough."

"Tsuzuki," Hisoka whispered feeling a soft sigh escape his lips. "I'd rather lead a life half tortured with you than to live a life without you."

"It's when you say things like that," the other man countered, "that I feel as if I want to protect you more."

_What's going to happen now?_ Hisoka asked his pain-numbed brain.

-----------------------------

Later that day, Tsuzuki had managed to sneak off by himself and was enjoying the fruits of his labor: a slice of cheesecake that he had managed to snag. One thing he was convinced of was that he was **not** sharing. Licking his lips, he savored the sweet taste and creamy texture on his tongue.

In the middle of his self-declared break, his ringing cell phone interrupted him. A clumsy hand reached into his pocket, and he brought out the phone, pushing the talk button. "Hewwwo," he slurred, smacking his lips.

"Are you eating again?"

He winced. It was Hisoka. "Nooo," he drawled out pitifully.

"You forgot about the meeting with Chief Konoe, didn't you?" Hisoka accused, voice dry and slightly annoyed sounding.

"No, no!" Tsuzuki insisted, even though he had. "I … I just got caught up a bit."

"Hurry here." With that, the green-eyed boy clicked the off button on his cell phone and sat in the meeting room with Chief Kanoe and Tatsumi. Arms crossed, a scowl arose on his pretty features as he silently fumed at Tsuzuki.

The purple eyed shinigami looked at the phone in his hand, the soft humming an indication that his partner had hung up on him in frustration. Biting his lip thoughtfully, his eyes shifted from between his slice of cake and the phone, weighing both options in his head.

_Damn, Hisoka's been pretty short with me, ever since …_ The memory of last night hit Tsuzuki like the stench of rotten meat, suddenly and sickeningly, robbing him of his usually voracious appetite.

Last night had not been fun. It was never pleasant to find out that your lover was being tormented, raped, and tortured in his sleep. Knowing that Muraki was behind it made it all the worse. Since Muraki was the culprit, there had to be a calculated intention for it. That part worried him, ate at his stomach, made him feel so helpless.

Snapping the phone shut, he abandoned his cake with a bittersweet smile stretching his lips. The last thing he wanted to do was further anger his partner, and so he headed back to Juohcho. No sooner had he taken a step, he found his phone ringing again.

A harassed sigh escaped from his lips. Yes, he knew that Hisoka was much more organized, much more responsible than he was, but this was ridiculous. Even his patience ran thin at times.

"What is it, Hisoka?" he said rather shortly into the phone. "I'm already on my way, and I'm abandoning half a slice of perfectly good cake."

"Tsuzuki-san, so you still like your sweets."

The voice that spoke to him wasn't Hisoka's light, almost musical voice. Instead, it was cold, distinct, and detached, sending a shudder through his body. He could place that voice anywhere, and he felt his heart sink, as he responded. "Muraki …"

**Author's notes:** Comments? (I hope so.) Recommendations for plans of actions? (They'd be appreciated) … Cuz now I have to think like Muraki. I'm no good at that. GYA!


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